A BIRDLOVER'S YEAR 



against the glass is a reminder that wherever 

 the footsteps of man are traced it is often 

 at the expense of the wilder denizens of the 

 earth. 



At St. Catherine's Point, near the southern 

 end of the Isle of Wight, there is a large 

 lighthouse. One can readily imagine the 

 marvellous glare of an electric light of fifteen 

 thousand candle-power and I was informed 

 by the keeper that the heat generated inside 

 the lamp was so great as to melt a lump of 

 metal as though it were a piece of wax. 

 Here, as in most other similar places, the 

 guardians of the lighthouse keep a schedule of 

 all the birds that come within their observa- 

 tion. These records, along with specimens 

 of the dead birds, are forwarded weekly 

 to the Secretary of the British Ornithologists' 

 Union, whose duty it is to study these 

 notes and to formulate a yearly report. 

 The lighthouse-keepers are also able to 

 identify many birds which pass sufficiently 

 close to be seen or heard, and others 

 which are so exhausted that they rest 

 on the building before proceeding on their 

 flight. 



Let us try to picture the travels of a 



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